


Good boys and sad subs

by kittenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Bottom Calum, Daddy Ashton, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Part two is now on my tumblr :))), Top Michael, Vibrators, angry!ashton, angry!michael, hurt!calum, hurt!luke, little!luke, there's no smut though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/pseuds/kittenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Remember what you promised me this morning? Are you going to be a good boy for me today?” </p><p>“Of course!” Luke giggles. “Then you’ll give me lots of kisses when you get back, right?”</p><p>“Anything for my princess,” Ashton whispers, his voice deep and soft. He curses himself, fully aware of how whipped he is for this boy. The way Luke listens to him, trying his hardest to get Ashton’s attention and approval, desperate for his love. It kills him.</p><p>or, luke wants to be a good boy for ashton, but something gets in the way</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good boys and sad subs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryliner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryliner/gifts).



> i should be studying now lol what else is new
> 
> dedicated to unofficial5sos cuz she encouraged me to write this mess

Today is a _special_ day. Today, Luke has a plan.

 

He’s going to be a good boy all day long, just for Ashton. No spankings, no time-outs, only cuddles and praises.

 

He’s told Ashton as much before he headed out this morning, and the look of pride on his face was enough to convince him to behave. No matter how much he loves getting in trouble, nothing compares to making his daddy proud.

 

So he settles down on the couch, feet tucked underneath his bum and his chin resting on his hand. Ashton won't be home for another hour, Michael is out as well, and Calum is in the room he shared with Michael.

 

He contemplates knocking on their bedroom door to see if Calum wants to play princesses with him, Luke trusts him with some of his dearest stuffies, ones he only trusts _Ashton_ with, but being good means not bothering anyone. The TV looks tempting, its screen pitch black with the promise of cartoons. A glance at the clock on the wall confirms his suspicions: Spongebob is on. But he knows how Ashton feels about watching too much telly, and he hasn’t even asked _permission_ , so that’s definitely a no-go.

 

Luke sighs, gazing at his thumb longingly. This is going to be harder than he thought.

 

He sits there for a while, just staring at the clock on the wall, the movement of the arrows slowly lulling him to sleep. A nap maybe? It sounds nice, but if he sleeps now, he won’t be able to sleep this afternoon.

 

He sighs again, and hits the pillow beside him. It’s weak and there’s little to no force behind it, but Luke is getting _frustrated_. If he had known how hard being good was, he wouldn't have made his promise to Ashton.

 

Well, if Lukey is suffering, daddy is suffering with him.

 

He pulls out his phone, dialling Ashton’s number. It’s on speed dial, a precaution for when Luke slips particularly far into his headspace, and phones become a mystery to him. Ashton picks up after the first ring.

 

“Princess? You okay?”

 

Luke smiles giddily at Ashton’s worried tone, content to hear how much his daddy cares about him. The reassurance makes his whole body tingle, his toes curling against the smooth leather of the couch at the thought.

 

“Yes! But I’m bored, daddy,” he whines. He picks at the hem of his shirt, afraid to come across as bratty or annoying. Ashton doesn’t seem to mind though. Luke can almost _hear_ him enjoying Luke’s dependency, drinking in his baby’s love.

 

“How about some colouring, huh?” Ashton proposes, voice sweet as honey as it seems to seep through the phone. “Are you going to paint me a pretty picture, baby boy?”

 

Luke mewls when he hears the nickname, getting up on his knees as if that could bring Ashton closer. He nods vigorously, almost dropping the phone with excitement.

 

“Yes, yes! I’ll do that, thanks daddy!”

 

“Alright,” Ashton smiles. Luke can hear it, can feel just how fond he is. “Remember what you promised me this morning? Are you going to be a good boy for me today?”

 

“Of course!” Luke giggles. “Then you’ll give me lots of kisses when you get back, right?”

 

“Anything for my princess,” Ashton whispers, his voice deep and soft. He curses himself, fully aware of how whipped he is for this boy. The way Luke listens to him, trying his hardest to get Ashton’s attention and approval, desperate for his love. It kills him. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

 

He forces himself to say goodbye, leaving Luke all to himself. Luke would’ve liked to talk a little longer, but he understands that daddy has things to do.

 

He crawls off of the couch, searching the drawers for his colours. It takes him a while to find them, they’re not in their usual spot. He spots them at last, shoved hastily underneath a heap of magazines. It annoys him. He hates it when his toys are not where they’re supposed to be, and the boys know that.

 

Finally he grabs the pack of crayons and settles down on the floor.  Since Ashton specifically asked him for a drawing, it has to be _extra_ pretty. Immediately, he fishes his favourite colours out of the bag. Pink, blue, and green and brown for Ashton’s eyes.

 

For a while, he colours attentively, careful not to mess anything up. He’s close to tears when he messes one little line up, nearly bursting out in sobs right then and there. But good boys don’t throw tantrums, so Luke grumpily wipes at his eyes before some tears can escape and stain his drawing.

 

It gets boring though. By now, he has drawn Ashton so many times, it doesn’t take him very long anymore. In a desperate attempt to keep drawing, he adds a car, then some birds. He winds up colouring things until none of the white space is left.

 

Boring. It’s all so _boring_ , and Luke glances at the clock. The little arrow has barely moved so far. He’s about to give up, stop being a good boy and do whatever he likes, when he sees it.

It’s been left carelessly on the coffee table, near the magazines that hid Luke’s crayons. Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen it before. The remote is small and white, so he’s certain it doesn’t operate the television. Actually, Luke has no clue what it operates. He decides that the buttons look really pretty, prettier than the ones on the TV remote, and Luke _loves_ pretty things. Therefore, it’s only logical that he starts pressing the buttons. Whoever put it there, should’ve considered that, he decides.

 

He has to admit that he’s a little afraid when he presses one, keeping an eye on everything in the room to see what happens. Immediately, he regrets his decision. What if he broke something? What if Ashton will get mad?

 

But nothing happens.

 

Thus he keeps pressing random buttons, trying out different patterns and seeing if he can make a cute jingle. It kind of feels like playing with the stuff they keep at the studio.

 

But like all things, it gets very boring very fast. Before he abandons the remote, he decides to press one more button. At the bottom, there’s a red button. It’s the only one he hasn’t tried yet. Naturally, he presses it.

 

Again, nothing happens.

 

Satisfied, he puts the remote down, and picks up his crayons once again. The clock tells him Ashton won’t be home for another hour and a half.

 

But Luke has been nothing but good so far, and he intends to keep it that way.

 

He spends the rest of the morning colouring, playing with Pengy and messing around on the guitar. Though time passes slowly, he makes it until Michael comes back without being naughty.

 

“Hey, loser. Is Ash out?” Michael asks, still busy closing the door and putting his coat away.

 

“Yeah, he’ll be back any moment.” Luke whispers, not looking up from his drawing.

 

Michael lets out a soft _oh_ when he turns around, his whole demeanour changing when he sees Luke lying on the floor. After a few months of ageplaying, Michael and Calum can tell if Luke’s in his headspace. His voice is a little higher and the stress lines on his face disappear. There are countless of hints, Ashton always says, but it never fails to surprise Luke when they can tell after one glance that he’s not feeling like an 18 year old.

 

“What’re you drawing there, Lukey?” Michael asks, crouching down next to Luke to see what he’s doing. Luke knows Michael loves it when he colours, that he adores the sound of the pencils scraping the paper. He says it calm him down.

 

“Calum! Look, he’s wearing your shirt,” Luke grins, shoving the picture in Michael’s face. Michael smiles at that, taking the sheet of paper from Luke before his clumsy hands can wrinkle it even more and the little boy gets upset.

 

“It’s very pretty, Luke. I’m going to go check up on Cal, alright? You keep colouring. I’m sure your daddy will be here soon.”

 

Michael gives Luke the picture back, and Luke gets back to colouring. He pulls out a new sheet, so he can start another drawing. This one has Michael in it, the guitarist rocking on stage with his favourite band shirt on.

 

It’s almost finished by the time Michael comes downstairs. He’s carrying Calum, who’s whimpering in his neck, his sobs muffled by the fabric of Michael’s sweater. The boy cries out when Michael lays him down on the couch, covering him with a blanket.

 

Luke wants to know what’s wrong, he hates seeing Calum sad, but he’s too afraid to ask. So he stays where he is, pausing his colouring to try and catch a glance of Calum’s face.

 

“Look, babe,” Michael whispers, stepping away from Calum to crouch down next to Luke. “Lukey made you a drawing.”

 

Calum looks at Luke with lidded eyes that are red with tears. He’s shaking all over, shivering in his huge sweater as he cuddles into the blanket. Whimpers are tumbling from his trembling lips, no coherent words coming out. His bottom lip is bitten raw , and there’s dried blood on his chin, but he musters up a small smile anyway.

 

Luke looks at him with wide eyes. What on earth could have happened if Luke was right here in the living room?

 

Michael’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He roars when he sees the remote lying next to Luke. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t warn Luke before pulling him on his lap.

 

“You did this!” He screams. “You hurt Calum, you asshole.” His grip on Luke is tight, too tight for the boy’s liking. Luke doesn’t know what’s happening, doesn’t know why Michael is yelling at him.

 

“I didn’t do anything. I’ve been a good boy all day.” Luke whimpers, trying desperately to escape Michael’s grasp. His wrists are aching as Michael pins them against his chest, spitting angry words in his face.

 

“Don’t lie to me!”

 

Michael slaps Luke. Luke starts crying.

 

Luke has never been slapped before. Ashton knows he hates it, would never even try it no matter how mad it is. And yet, Michael has just slapped him in the face, and Luke doesn’t even know _why_. All he knows is that his cheek is burning and that Michael is still yelling and that he wishes Ashton would come home right now.

 

“I’m not lying! I promised Ash, promised him I would be good!”

 

Michael’s face looks red with anger, making Luke whimper in fear. He’s still trying to escape his grip, but Michael is strong when he’s mad. His fingers are digging into Luke’s skin, leaving marks that don’t turn Luke on. They only scare him, make him cry even harder than he was before.

 

“Luke, do you see this remote?” Michael growls, pointing at the white device on the floor. “It operates the _vibrator_ that has been in Calum’s _ass_ while he was _tied up_ for the past two _hours_!”

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t know! It was an accident!”

 

“You _hurt_ Calum! I will murder you, Luke. I’ll murder you.”

 

Luke whimpers, his head spinning, as Michael tries to unbutton his pants. He wriggles and thrashes in Michael’s hold, only enerving Michael even more when his foot connects with Michael’s face. The older boy growls deafeningly, lets his hand land on Luke’s butt cheek. The sound it makes resonates through the room, loud and clear despite Luke’s crying.

 

“You can’t spank me!” Luke screams defiantly. “You’re not my daddy.”

 

But Michael keeps spanking him, ignoring the way he’s squirming and flailing his limbs, the hits becoming harder and harder when Michael starts getting the hang of it. Luke feels it burning so painfully he’s afraid Michael is actually drawing blood, and he doesn’t like it at all. Luke wants his daddy, who would kiss him and cuddle him after he gets spanked. Ashton never hits this hard.

 

“What the _fuck_ is going on here?”

 

Ashton sounds angry, expression thunderous as he walks in on Michael with his hand on Luke’s bruised bare bottom. The skin looks purple with blue spots here and there, some parts of the skin even leaking blood. The blond boy has tears trekking down his rosy red cheeks, thumb shoved in his mouth.

 

Michael looks up when he hears Ashton’s voice, finally stopping his assault on Luke’s bum.

 

“Luke hurt Calum!” He yells, voice matching Ashton’s in volume. “He most likely traumatised him!” Blinded by anger, he shoves Luke off of his lap, who whimpers pitifully when his bare bum touches the rough carpet, and a fresh set of tears streams down his cheeks.

 

“So you decide to traumatise Luke? Is that what you’re doing? A sub for a sub?”

 

Calum doesn’t think he has ever seen Ashton so angry before, doesn’t think he’s ever seen his band so upset before. Everyone’s either yelling or crying, the noise too loud for such a small room and his sensitive ears. Calum feels like throwing up. His limbs are heavy with exhaustion, weighing him down on the couch, tying him to the blankets. He wants to get up, wants to stop them, Luke is crying for fuck’s sake, but his bottom half aches more than it ever has. The pain of his first time, the pain of spankings, the pain of ropes digging into his wrists, they’re nothing compared to what he feels now. Moving an inch is enough the fray his nerves, the friction too much for his oversensitive skin.

 

“You know very well that’s not what this is about. Learn to control your sub, and we’ll talk.”

 

Ashton grumbles at that, clenching his hands to fists by his sides as anger pumps through his veins. It frightens Calum, it _terrifies_ Luke.

 

The poor boy doesn’t know what’s happening. His drawings lie abandoned on the floor, his crayons all over the place. His jeans and underwear are still at his ankles, the skin of his bum so raw it hurts Calum to look at it.

 

“Learn to _control_ my sub? What the fuck is wrong with you? I come in here and you’re spanking my boyfriend so hard he’s crying his eyes out.”

 

Luke flinches when they bring him up, thumb still in his mouth.

 

“Lukey?” Calum says, all too aware that Michael and Ashton aren’t paying any attention to them anyway. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me?”

 

The sound of a soft voice catches Luke’s attention, and he gladly accepts Calum’s proposal. Calum tries not to hiss too loudly when he gets up, ignoring his body’s screams of protest. Black spots cloud his vision as he stretches out his hand towards the younger boy, who stands up as well.

 

He pulls up Luke’s pants, even though it only makes him cry harder, the fabric no doubt burning his skin.

 

Their escape goes unnoticed, or maybe it doesn’t, because as soon as they leave, the fight gets louder. Calum leads Luke to the room he shares with Ashton, since his own room still smells filthy and the bed hasn’t been cleaned yet. He opens one of their drawers, purposely looking past everything he finds in there and pretending that he _didn’t_ see those things and that his friends definitely _don’t_ own those, until he finds what he’s looking for.

 

“Luke, I’ll apply some Aloe Vera cream, alright? Like daddy always does?”

 

He holds out the little bottle, reaching for Luke, but Luke isn’t having any of it. The boy gets hysterical, kicking and thrashing to escape Calum’s hands.

 

“No, please don’t. I don’t want it! I don’t want it!”

 

“Luke,” Calum argues, his tone reprimanding, “it’s for your own good.”

 

“Please, Cal. Please don’t make me,” Luke sobs, and Calum sighs. He wishes Luke would just shut up and pull it together, but he knows it doesn’t work that way. He knows Luke is fragile when he’s in his headspace, knows that they need to be gentle with him, that he’s easily hurt.

 

“Alright, just this once I’ll let it slide, okay? But you _must_ ask your daddy to do it. Promise, Lukey?”

 

Luke nods adorably, his bottom lip trapped by his teeth and his hands pulling at the hem of his shirt.

 

“Promise.”

 

“There’s a good boy,” Calum praises, knowing what kind of effect those words have on the boy. “Wipe your tears now, okay?”

 

Luke rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, messily wiping his face clean. He’s still trembling, and he’s clutching the blanket on the bed when he speaks up.

 

“I’m so sorry, Callie,” his voice is barely louder than a whisper, breaking several times as he talks. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you!”

 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Why don’t you come lay on the bed with me? We’ll sleep it off, alright? Or we could just cuddle?”

 

Luke hesitantly lifts the covers of the bed, making some space so Calum can crawl underneath them. Before joining Luke on the bed, Calum searches for something else in the drawers. He finds it in the corner of the bottom drawer, buried underneath other stuff. Luke gasps when he offers it to him.

 

“But daddy-”

 

“It’s okay, Luke. I’m giving you permission. It’s better than sucking on your thumb, and you could use the comfort right now.”

 

Once he recognises the genuinity in Calum’s eyes, Luke accepts the pacifier, slowly bringing it to his mouth. When Calum lies down next to him, he rests his cheek on Calum’s chest, the tear tracks leaving marks on his sweater, as he lies on his stomach. Calum can feel him sucking on the pacifier, it soothes him. It soothes them both.

 

It’s quiet in the room, the only sounds are caused by their breathing and Luke’s lips around the plastic. But downstairs it only gets louder.

 

Calum can feel Luke’s grip on his chest tighten, his neatly-trimmed nails digging into his skin while he clenches his eyes shut. It doesn’t take long before he feels fresh tears wet his sweater.

 

“Don’t cry, Lukey,” he whispers, fingers slipping underneath Luke’s shirt so he can caress the boy’s back. Luke sniffles an apology into the fabric of his sweater.

 

Calum’s about to promise Luke that Ashton and Michael are just talking, when he hears something break, the loud noise followed by Michael cursing. The two have been throwing things at each other for the past ten minutes now, tossing insults at each other as they argue, and quite frankly, Calum’s had enough of it.

 

“I’m gonna go downstairs, sweetheart. I’ll make them stop,” he promises Luke, gently prying his fingers off of his body. Luke nods weakly, eyes wide with fear, a fresh set of tears ready to spill.

 

It’s hard, walking. Calum can feel his body protesting, threatening to send him tumbling down the stairs. But he thinks about Luke, scared to death without his daddy, and about Michael and the promise of cuddles. As much as he wants to comfort Luke, he prefers being cuddled, being the little spoon scooped up in Michael’s arms.

 

“Can you two stop?” He hisses when he reaches to bottom step, still completely unnoticed by either of the boys. “Luke’s crying.” The last sentence is no louder than a whisper, a comment mutter under his breath, but Ashton doesn’t waste a second before flying up the stairs. He drops the plate he was about to throw, pushing past Calum to see his little boy.

 

Michael has the decency to look apologetic about leaving Calum so he could argue with someone and opens his arms as an invitation for a hug. Calum gladly accepts it, letting Michael swallow him in his embrace. He loves it, adores getting lost in the fabric and the smell of Michael’s cologne mixed with boy sweat.

 

Michael ends the hug so he can brush the hair out of Calum’s face, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

 

“You okay?”

 

Calum mutters something incoherent, closing his eyes again in favor of drinking in every impression of Michael he can find. His smell and his touch and his breathing, they seem to dull his pain a little, wrap it in a layer of mist so it feels faint and very far-away.

 

He’s already half asleep, playing little spoon on the couch, by the time Ashton and Luke enter the living room. Ashton is carrying Luke, the latter clutching a sippy cup in his ever trembling hands. Calum notices he’s pretty much in the same state as he is.

 

“Sleep now,” Ashton whispers, lying down on the couch with Luke on top of him, both of them covered by a blanket and Pengy safe in Luke’s grip. Luke hands the sippy cup to Ashton so he can lie down decently, whispering a faint _I love you, daddy_ before closing his eyes.

 

“You were a good boy today, princess.”

 

Despite everything, Luke smiles, and he nuzzles his nose in Ashton's neck.

 

Michael watches them sadly. All the fight has left him, and now he can only see just how exhausted Luke really is. He knows Luke is fragile when he’s in his headspace, yet he took his rage and fear out on him anyway. And now their, ‘cause he’s not just _Ashton’s_ responsibility, baby boy is terrified.

 

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he says.

 

But Luke is already asleep.

  
[ [PART TWO](http://cutesymichael.tumblr.com/post/124265450818/would-you-do-a-sequel-part-2-another-chapter-of) ]  


**Author's Note:**

> if you ever wanna rant to me about an idea or if you want me to write something hmu on tumblr: cutesymichael.tumblr.com
> 
> (and if anyone has a better title, pleASE)


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